The Professor

by Charlotte Bronte

  CHAPTER IV.

  No man likes to acknowledge that he has made a mistake in the choice ofhis profession, and every man, worthy of the name, will row long againstwind and tide before he allows himself to cry out, "I am baffled!" andsubmits to be floated passively back to land. From the first week of myresidence in X---- I felt my occupation irksome. The thing itself--thework of copying and translating business-letters--was a dry and tedioustask enough, but had that been all, I should long have borne with thenuisance; I am not of an impatient nature, and influenced by the doubledesire of getting my living and justifying to myself and others theresolution I had taken to become a tradesman, I should have enduredin silence the rust and cramp of my best faculties; I should not havewhispered, even inwardly, that I longed for liberty; I should have pentin every sigh by which my heart might have ventured to intimate itsdistress under the closeness, smoke, monotony and joyless tumult ofBigben Close, and its panting desire for freer and fresher scenes; Ishould have set up the image of Duty, the fetish of Perseverance, in mysmall bedroom at Mrs. King's lodgings, and they two should have beenmy household gods, from which my darling, my cherished-in-secret,Imagination, the tender and the mighty, should never, either by softnessor strength, have severed me. But this was not all; the antipathy whichhad sprung up between myself and my employer striking deeper root andspreading denser shade daily, excluded me from every glimpse of thesunshine of life; and I began to feel like a plant growing in humiddarkness out of the slimy walls of a well.

  Antipathy is the only word which can express the feeling EdwardCrimsworth had for me--a feeling, in a great measure, involuntary, andwhich was liable to be excited by every, the most trifling movement,look, or word of mine. My southern accent annoyed him; the degreeof education evinced in my language irritated him; my punctuality,industry, and accuracy, fixed his dislike, and gave it the high flavourand poignant relish of envy; he feared that I too should one day make asuccessful tradesman. Had I been in anything inferior to him, he wouldnot have hated me so thoroughly, but I knew all that he knew, and, whatwas worse, he suspected that I kept the padlock of silence on mentalwealth in which he was no sharer. If he could have once placed me in aridiculous or mortifying position, he would have forgiven me much, but Iwas guarded by three faculties--Caution, Tact, Observation andprowling and prying as was Edward's malignity, it could never bafflethe lynx-eyes of these, my natural sentinels. Day by day did his malicewatch my tact, hoping it would sleep, and prepared to steal snake-likeon its slumber; but tact, if it be genuine, never sleeps.

  I had received my first quarter's wages, and was returning to mylodgings, possessed heart and soul with the pleasant feeling thatthe master who had paid me grudged every penny of that hard-earnedpittance--(I had long ceased to regard Mr. Crimsworth as my brother--hewas a hard, grinding master; he wished to be an inexorable tyrant: thatwas all). Thoughts, not varied but strong, occupied my mind; two voicesspoke within me; again and again they uttered the same monotonousphrases. One said: "William, your life is intolerable." The other: "Whatcan you do to alter it?" I walked fast, for it was a cold, frosty nightin January; as I approached my lodgings, I turned from a general view ofmy affairs to the particular speculation as to whether my fire would beout; looking towards the window of my sitting-room, I saw no cheeringred gleam.

  "That slut of a servant has neglected it as usual," said I, "and I shallsee nothing but pale ashes if I go in; it is a fine starlight night--Iwill walk a little farther."

  It WAS a fine night, and the streets were dry and even clean for X----;there was a crescent curve of moonlight to be seen by the parish churchtower, and hundreds of stars shone keenly bright in all quarters of thesky.

  Unconsciously I steered my course towards the country; I had got intoGrove-street, and began to feel the pleasure of seeing dim trees at theextremity, round a suburban house, when a person leaning over the irongate of one of the small gardens which front the neat dwelling-houses inthis street, addressed me as I was hurrying with quick stride past.

  "What the deuce is the hurry? Just so must Lot have left Sodom, when heexpected fire to pour down upon it, out of burning brass clouds."

  I stopped short, and looked towards the speaker. I smelt the fragrance,and saw the red spark of a cigar; the dusk outline of a man, too, benttowards me over the wicket.

  "You see I am meditating in the field at eventide," continued thisshade. "God knows it's cool work! especially as instead of Rebecca ona camel's hump, with bracelets on her arms and a ring in her nose, Fatesends me only a counting-house clerk, in a grey tweed wrapper." Thevoice was familiar to me--its second utterance enabled me to seize thespeaker's identity.

  "Mr. Hunsden! good evening."

  "Good evening, indeed! yes, but you would have passed me withoutrecognition if I had not been so civil as to speak first."

  "I did not know you."

  "A famous excuse! You ought to have known me; I knew you, though youwere going ahead like a steam-engine. Are the police after you?"

  "It wouldn't be worth their while; I'm not of consequence enough toattract them."

  "Alas, poor shepherd! Alack and well-a-day! What a theme for regret, andhow down in the mouth you must be, judging from the sound of your voice!But since you're not running from the police, from whom are you running?the devil?"

  "On the contrary, I am going post to him."

  "That is well--you're just in luck: this is Tuesday evening; there arescores of market gigs and carts returning to Dinneford to-night; and he,or some of his, have a seat in all regularly; so, if you'll step inand sit half-an-hour in my bachelor's parlour, you may catch him as hepasses without much trouble. I think though you'd better let him aloneto-night, he'll have so many customers to serve; Tuesday is his busy dayin X---- and Dinneford; come in at all events."

  He swung the wicket open as he spoke.

  "Do you really wish me to go in?" I asked.

  "As you please--I'm alone; your company for an hour or two would beagreeable to me; but, if you don't choose to favour me so far, I'll notpress the point. I hate to bore any one."

  It suited me to accept the invitation as it suited Hunsden to give it.I passed through the gate, and followed him to the front door, which heopened; thence we traversed a passage, and entered his parlour; the doorbeing shut, he pointed me to an arm-chair by the hearth; I sat down, andglanced round me.

  It was a comfortable room, at once snug and handsome; the bright gratewas filled with a genuine ----shire fire, red, clear, and generous, nopenurious South-of-England embers heaped in the corner of a grate. Onthe table a shaded lamp diffused around a soft, pleasant, and equallight; the furniture was almost luxurious for a young bachelor,comprising a couch and two very easy chairs; bookshelves filled therecesses on each side of the mantelpiece; they were well-furnished, andarranged with perfect order. The neatness of the room suited my taste;I hate irregular and slovenly habits. From what I saw I concluded thatHunsden's ideas on that point corresponded with my own. While he removedfrom the centre-table to the side-board a few pamphlets and periodicals,I ran my eye along the shelves of the book-case nearest me. French andGerman works predominated, the old French dramatists, sundry modernauthors, Thiers, Villemain, Paul de Kock, George Sand, Eugene Sue; inGerman--Goethe, Schiller, Zschokke, Jean Paul Richter; in English therewere works on Political Economy. I examined no further, for Mr. Hunsdenhimself recalled my attention.

  "You shall have something," said he, "for you ought to feel disposed forrefreshment after walking nobody knows how far on such a Canadian nightas this; but it shall not be brandy-and-water, and it shall not bea bottle of port, nor ditto of sherry. I keep no such poison. I haveRhein-wein for my own drinking, and you may choose between that andcoffee."

  Here again Hunsden suited me: if there was one generally receivedpractice I abhorred more than another, it was the habitual imbibing ofspirits and strong wines. I had, however, no fancy for his acid Germannectar, but I liked coffee, so I responded--

  "Give me some coffee,
Mr. Hunsden."

  I perceived my answer pleased him; he had doubtless expected to see achilling effect produced by his steady announcement that he would giveme neither wine nor spirits; he just shot one searching glance at myface to ascertain whether my cordiality was genuine or a mere feintof politeness. I smiled, because I quite understood him; and, while Ihonoured his conscientious firmness, I was amused at his mistrust; heseemed satisfied, rang the bell, and ordered coffee, which was presentlybrought; for himself, a bunch of grapes and half a pint of somethingsour sufficed. My coffee was excellent; I told him so, and expressed theshuddering pity with which his anchorite fare inspired me. He did notanswer, and I scarcely think heard my remark. At that moment one ofthose momentary eclipses I before alluded to had come over his face,extinguishing his smile, and replacing, by an abstracted and alienatedlook, the customarily shrewd, bantering glance of his eye. I employedthe interval of silence in a rapid scrutiny of his physiognomy. I hadnever observed him closely before; and, as my sight is very short, I hadgathered only a vague, general idea of his appearance; I was surprisednow, on examination, to perceive how small, and even feminine, were hislineaments; his tall figure, long and dark locks, his voice and generalbearing, had impressed me with the notion of something powerful andmassive; not at all:--my own features were cast in a harsher and squarermould than his. I discerned that there would be contrasts between hisinward and outward man; contentions, too; for I suspected his soulhad more of will and ambition than his body had of fibre and muscle.Perhaps, in these incompatibilities of the "physique" with the "morale,"lay the secret of that fitful gloom; he WOULD but COULD not, and theathletic mind scowled scorn on its more fragile companion. As to hisgood looks, I should have liked to have a woman's opinion on thatsubject; it seemed to me that his face might produce the same effecton a lady that a very piquant and interesting, though scarcely pretty,female face would on a man. I have mentioned his dark locks--they werebrushed sideways above a white and sufficiently expansive forehead; hischeek had a rather hectic freshness; his features might have done wellon canvas, but indifferently in marble: they were plastic; characterhad set a stamp upon each; expression re-cast them at her pleasure, andstrange metamorphoses she wrought, giving him now the mien of a morosebull, and anon that of an arch and mischievous girl; more frequently,the two semblances were blent, and a queer, composite countenance theymade.

  Starting from his silent fit, he began:--

  "William! what a fool you are to live in those dismal lodgings of Mrs.King's, when you might take rooms here in Grove Street, and have agarden like me!"

  "I should be too far from the mill."

  "What of that? It would do you good to walk there and back two or threetimes a day; besides, are you such a fossil that you never wish to see aflower or a green leaf?"

  "I am no fossil."

  "What are you then? You sit at that desk in Crimsworth's counting-houseday by day and week by week, scraping with a pen on paper, just like anautomaton you never get up; you never say you are tired; you never askfor a holiday; you never take change or relaxation you give way tono excess of an evening; you neither keep wild company, nor indulge instrong drink."

  "Do you, Mr. Hunsden?"

  "Don't think to pose me with short questions; your case and mineare diametrically different, and it is nonsense attempting to draw aparallel. I say, that when a man endures patiently what ought to beunendurable, he is a fossil."

  "Whence do you acquire the knowledge of my patience?"

  "Why, man, do you suppose you are a mystery? The other night you seemedsurprised at my knowing to what family you belonged; now you findsubject for wonderment in my calling you patient. What do you think I dowith my eyes and ears? I've been in your counting-house more than oncewhen Crimsworth has treated you like a dog; called for a book, forinstance, and when you gave him the wrong one, or what he chose toconsider the wrong one, flung it back almost in your face; desired youto shut or open the door as if you had been his flunkey; to say nothingof your position at the party about a month ago, where you had neitherplace nor partner, but hovered about like a poor, shabby hanger-on andhow patient you were under each and all of these circumstances!"

  "Well, Mr. Hunsden, what then?"

  "I can hardly tell you what then; the conclusion to be drawn as toyour character depends upon the nature of the motives which guideyour conduct; if you are patient because you expect to make somethingeventually out of Crimsworth, notwithstanding his tyranny, or perhaps bymeans of it, you are what the world calls an interested and mercenary,but may be a very wise fellow; if you are patient because you think it aduty to meet insult with submission, you are an essential sap, and inno shape the man for my money; if you are patient because your nature isphlegmatic, flat, inexcitable, and that you cannot get up to the pitchof resistance, why, God made you to be crushed; and lie down by allmeans, and lie flat, and let Juggernaut ride well over you."

  Mr. Hunsden's eloquence was not, it will be perceived, of the smooth andoily order. As he spoke, he pleased me ill. I seem to recognize in himone of those characters who, sensitive enough themselves, are selfishlyrelentless towards the sensitiveness of others. Moreover, though hewas neither like Crimsworth nor Lord Tynedale, yet he was acrid, and, Isuspected, overbearing in his way: there was a tone of despotism inthe urgency of the very reproaches by which he aimed at goading theoppressed into rebellion against the oppressor. Looking at him stillmore fixedly than I had yet done, I saw written in his eye and mien aresolution to arrogate to himself a freedom so unlimited that it mightoften trench on the just liberty of his neighbours. I rapidly ran overthese thoughts, and then I laughed a low and involuntary laugh, movedthereto by a slight inward revelation of the inconsistency of man.It was as I thought: Hunsden had expected me to take with calm hisincorrect and offensive surmises, his bitter and haughty taunts; andhimself was chafed by a laugh, scarce louder than a whisper.

  His brow darkened, his thin nostril dilated a little.

  "Yes," he began, "I told you that you were an aristocrat, and who butan aristocrat would laugh such a laugh as that, and look such a look?A laugh frigidly jeering; a look lazily mutinous; gentlemanlike irony,patrician resentment. What a nobleman you would have made, WilliamCrimsworth! You are cut out for one; pity Fortune has baulked Nature!Look at the features, figure, even to the hands--distinction allover--ugly distinction! Now, if you'd only an estate and a mansion,and a park, and a title, how you could play the exclusive, maintain therights of your class, train your tenantry in habits of respect to thepeerage, oppose at every step the advancing power of the people, supportyour rotten order, and be ready for its sake to wade knee-deep inchurls' blood; as it is, you've no power; you can do nothing; you'rewrecked and stranded on the shores of commerce; forced into collisionwith practical men, with whom you cannot cope, for YOU'LL NEVER BE ATRADESMAN."

  The first part of Hunsden's speech moved me not at all, or, if it did,it was only to wonder at the perversion into which prejudice had twistedhis judgment of my character; the concluding sentence, however, not onlymoved, but shook me; the blow it gave was a severe one, because Truthwielded the weapon. If I smiled now, it, was only in disdain of myself.

  Hunsden saw his advantage; he followed it up.

  "You'll make nothing by trade," continued he; "nothing more than thecrust of dry bread and the draught of fair water on which you now live;your only chance of getting a competency lies in marrying a rich widow,or running away with an heiress."

  "I leave such shifts to be put in practice by those who devise them,"said I, rising.

  "And even that is hopeless," he went on coolly. "What widow would haveyou? Much less, what heiress? You're not bold and venturesome enough forthe one, nor handsome and fascinating enough for the other. You thinkperhaps you look intelligent and polished; carry your intellect andrefinement to market, and tell me in a private note what price is bidfor them."

  Mr. Hunsden had taken his tone for the night; the string he struck wasout of tune, he would finger n
o other. Averse to discord, of which I hadenough every day and all day long, I concluded, at last, that silenceand solitude were preferable to jarring converse; I bade him good-night.

  "What! Are you going, lad? Well, good-night: you'll find the door." Andhe sat still in front of the fire, while I left the room and the house.I had got a good way on my return to my lodgings before I found out thatI was walking very fast, and breathing very hard, and that my nails werealmost stuck into the palms of my clenched hands, and that my teeth wereset fast; on making this discovery, I relaxed both my pace, fists, andjaws, but I could not so soon cause the regrets rushing rapidly throughmy mind to slacken their tide. Why did I make myself a tradesman? Whydid I enter Hunsden's house this evening? Why, at dawn to-morrow, mustI repair to Crimsworth's mill? All that night did I ask myself thesequestions, and all that night fiercely demanded of my soul an answer. Igot no sleep; my head burned, my feet froze; at last the factory bellsrang, and I sprang from my bed with other slaves.